


Wrapped in One

by Rosage



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: F/F, Fluff, No specific route or major spoilers, Post-Timeskip | War Phase (Fire Emblem: Three Houses)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-16
Updated: 2019-11-16
Packaged: 2021-01-02 03:38:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,031
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21154994
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rosage/pseuds/Rosage
Summary: Hilda’s scheme to help Annette relax with a picnic goes sideways when Annette works hard to prepare—and drags a pair of pining archers into it.





	1. A Foolproof Plan

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SirAranIsWriting](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SirAranIsWriting/gifts).

> This is my Femslashex fill for SirAranisWriting, whose requests were so excellent I had to combine a couple. I hope you enjoy it!

Annette’s hunched position must be murder on her back. Baubles Hilda made her act as paperweights for maps and tactical books, which cover the library table. Trust Annette to put decorations to work.

Breathing a sigh, Hilda bends over Annette’s shoulder, walking her fingers down Annette’s neck. “A massage sure would be nice right about now.”

“Hilda, that tickles,” Annette says with a shiver. “I’m trying to concentrate.”

“It’s not like we have tests to study for anymore, you know.”

“I wish. These battles aren't tests.”

And Hilda had thought the academy made everyone serious. With a real war, even she wakes up in a cold sweat most mornings—and without anyone free to make her a comforting breakfast. That’s why Annette can’t afford to keel over while proving herself, not with a whole battalion counting on her.

Stretching, Hilda eyes the empty plate shoved to the side of the table. “This dusty old library is bumming me out. You really take meals in here?”

“Yeah, or I’ll just forget to eat. I’ve had to pay for a couple of books I’ve ruined that way, though.”

“Ooh, what a sneaky way to add to your collection.”

“I didn’t do it on purpose!” The accusation makes Annette straighten, her hair bouncing around her neck. Hilda tucks it behind Annette’s ear, earning a blush.

“Still, a little sunlight with your food would do wonders for that big brain of yours,” Hilda says with a wink. "It needs to be fed, too, you know."

A crease forms between Annette's eyes as she glances toward her books. “You really think so?”

“I’m sure of it. I know! Why don’t we have a picnic?”

It's a foolproof idea. Though Annette takes library books to the dining hall, she wouldn't dare risk losing them out in the middle of nowhere. Depending on where they go, it might be a bit of a bother, but Annette would take care of the details.

_You're so smart, Hilda_, she thinks. Someone has to acknowledge it, after all.

"That's so smart!" Annette says. Hilda blinks.

"Could you please repeat that? It was, um, too loud to hear."

"I just said it's a great idea. The war has everyone's spirits down, so I'm sure this would boost morale. We can invite everyone from our old classes—oh, and Bernadetta's been trying to eat with everyone more, too. A picnic in a beautiful area should do the trick."

The compliment makes Hilda's hand rise to her heart before she registers the rest. "Well, I see your point about Bernadetta," Hilda says. She’s a wonderful cook, after all, not something Hilda or Annette can say. "But I had something more intimate in mind." Her lashes flutter. Flirtation is the smallest price to pay for Annette not wearing herself out party planning. A bonus, really.

"Oh." This time, Annette's blush stretches down to her hood. "I guess I got carried away. I just thought it'd be nice to get all of our friends together. I mean, not that it wouldn't be nice to just spend time with you. I mean—"

"You're too cute. How about we compromise with a small group? If we're inviting Bernadetta, we should make sure Leonie joins us, too."

"Sure, but why?"

Hilda clasps her hands. "Oh, no reason! She just loves the outdoors."

Even Annette can't plan too much food for four people, and now Hilda can accomplish two aims without extra effort. _You're so smart, Hilda, _she thinks again, even though someone else might notice.

* * *

"Did you ask Hilda before you invited me?" Mercedes asks as she stirs her berry compote.

"No, but everything's better with you, Mercie. You're my best friend." Annette has been saying it more than ever, now that she can again. If she misses a chance, if she leaves Mercedes out of something, the worst might…

Mercedes pats Annette's shoulder. Drawn out of her thoughts, she spies the flour she's been flinging everywhere. She only meant to keep the dough from sticking.

"Oh, no. What if it gets near the flame again?" Annette asks. Mercedes slides the rolling pin out of her hands.

"Why don't you watch the pot?" They switch positions, and Annette rocks on her heels, trying not to make another mess. "Anyway, you're sweet, Annie. We can have our own lunch anytime, okay? You should just focus on having a nice double date."

As Annette reaches for the spoon, she almost knocks over the pot. "Double date?"

"Have I misunderstood? I've been preparing my special heart tarts, you know."

"Oh, I, I don't know." Annette stirs so quickly the pot rocks. "I mean, I think Hilda and I might be dating, but it's hard to get a straight answer out of her about anything, and I'm so busy..."

Not to mention clumsy enough to ruin Hilda's perfect lipstick, like she did the one time they kissed. She presses her hand to her mouth. Mercedes giggles. "It's all right to take things at your own pace."

"That's the problem, our paces aren't—uh, Mercie? Is this about to burn?"

They switch stations again, and Annette plays with the dough, feeling it squish and crumble in her fingers. How does one plan a double date? Should she be packing a nicer blanket? Flowers? Does she need enough for the other two to give each other, or would that be weird?

A taste of the compote makes Mercedes pucker her lips. She adds a heaping spoonful of sugar. "Nothing's beyond help," she says. Annette can only hope she's right.

* * *

Sitting in her room, Bernadetta traces the stitching on Leonie’s shirt. This one, she embroidered with an arrow on the sleeve, its head pointed down the arm to target her enemies. _It's clever, _she lets herself think, hoping Leonie will agree.

Her good mood lasts until she returns to her half-written letter. _Your hair and smile are as bright as the sun_... _You're really, really nice to me_... No matter what tone she tries, even glancing at the words makes her face burn up. What is she thinking? There's no way Leonie wants to hear anything like this from her. Just because writing comes more easily than speaking doesn't mean she can't ruin everything with it. Besides, imagining Leonie's face while reading it could be more mortifying than watching her.  


Not that there's anything wrong with Leonie's face. With those cinnamon freckles, those dark brows, and those eyes that only crinkle with anger at people who hurt her friends...

Bernadetta shreds the parchment until she has broken the words beyond legibility. It scatters like ashes over the floor. _Stupid Bernie_. _You finally know a friend likes you, and you want to ruin it_?

A knock makes her yelp.

"Hey, Bernadetta, are you in there? I've got a message."

"Leonie!" She stares down at her confetti as if it can reveal her secret. "Um, what is it?"

"Hilda and Annette invited us to a picnic. Well, Hilda wanted me to invite you. Too lazy to walk here, I guess."

"A picnic? You mean, out in the open?"

"Is there a problem with that?"

"What if we get ambushed?" The edges of a blanket can't replace the walls of her room. While she’s been venturing outside more, she's been able to keep her back to a wall. Imagine how many ways someone could sneak up on them in some meadow! Even if she faces away from the sun and watches the shadows, a bandit or soldier or spy could—

"Don't worry. I'll keep you safe."

Bernadetta gnaws on her lip. Even the quietest animals can't sneak up on Leonie, and she's as capable of wrestling a bear as she is picking off an enemy archer. And it does sound nice to eat with her.

What about the others, though? They probably don't even want her there.

"I don't think that's a good idea," Bernadetta says. Even though Leonie can't see her, she turns away. "Sorry. You should just go without me."

"Are you sure? I heard there'll be tarts."

Bernadetta peeks over her shoulder at the door. "Tarts?"

"Mercedes works magic with crust."

A fourth person is involved in this? Another one Bernadetta can't recall looking in the eye? A familiar sensation grips her, like she's about to lock up from the base of her spine upward.

_No, no, no. _"No!"

"No? I thought everyone was a fan of her baking."

"No, I mean—I'm not really in the mood for tarts.”

"If you're sure, I won't twist your arm. I'll save you a sandwich or something."

Bernadetta listens to Leonie's boots on the cobblestones, trying to figure out if she's upset. The conversation replays in her mind, her parts never seeming right, though she's not sure what she should have said. If it had just been Leonie, she might have agreed. But why would the others have invited her if not as a joke?

When she can move again, she scrambles for a project to focus on. She picks up the shirt and realizes she forgot to give it back.

* * *

Leonie enters the training grounds with more than one agenda. Though Catherine never tends to Thunderbrand in public, she pitches in with the rest of the weapon maintenance. Sure enough, she's sitting on a bench with a blade and whetstone, and seems happy to help when Leonie approaches for advice. 

"There's a friend I want to be closer to, but I just can't break down that wall. Literally." Not that Leonie would ever kick down the door, but she doesn't know how to help Bernadetta feel comfortable enough to open it.

Catherine stands her sword on its tip and leans on the pommel. "I thought you'd want combat advice. I'm not really the person to go to about relationships."

"Really? Yours has lasted for years, and you seem so different. I figured you knew how to problem solve."

"My—you're talking about Shamir." Catherine rubs her neck. "What can I say? Partnerships are all about compromising when you can, and setting boundaries where you have to. With that type, you have to take the initiative, but accept no for an answer. That's probably obvious, though."

So Leonie can't do anything differently. Unlike everything else, this isn't something she can fix by working harder. It isn’t something _to _fix.

Shamir's voice almost makes Leonie drop her bow. "Don't distract Leonie from her training."

"You need to stop sneaking up on me," Catherine tells her partner.

"You need to pay more attention. You can start by sparring with me."

Shamir gives Leonie an acknowledging nod and vanishes. Catherine shrugs at Leonie with a half-smile, mouthing _good luck_ before following her partner.

With that settled, Leonie is left to train, shooting arrow after arrow into the targets. Her muscles develop a pleasant burn from the exertion as she falls into a rhythm, knowing how the bow's tension should feel and how to strike her goal every time.

After a while, she becomes aware of arrows clustered around the bullseye of a nearby target. Following their path reveals Bernadetta nocking another arrow. With her stealth, she could have arrived anytime. The urge pulls Leonie, as taut as her bow's string, to greet her and praise her aim. But Bernadetta often avoids training in public out of fear of attention. Catherine is right; Leonie needs to be patient.

Leonie retrieves her own arrows, taking note of the outliers, just far enough to miss a soldier's neck. As she's turning, she almost runs into Bernadetta.

"Um, hi," Bernadetta says, shoving a shirt out in front of her.

"Hey, I'm so glad to see you! Is this mine?"

"You are? I mean, yeah, from the other day. Sorry I didn't return it sooner."

"No worries. Is this an arrow?" She traces the stitching, as fine and precise as ever. The arrow is even fletched with a detailed feather. "That's so cool. I'm amazed at how many ideas you come up with."

"Oh, I'm glad you like it." Bernadetta smiles, a rare, comforting sight, before worry pulls down her features. "So, um, about that picnic you mentioned..."

"Were you thinking of coming after all?"

"Yeah, if it's not too much trouble. I know everyone's plans have already changed. You don't even have to make extra food for me, I—I just thought it’d be nice to go with you."

"It's no trouble at all. I'd love for you to come. And of course we'll feed you, silly."

Another smile, and Leonie can't help but think she hit the bullseye.


	2. Multitasking

On the day of the picnic, the Goddess spares them rain. Wispy clouds drift as slowly as Hilda wants them all to move. Birdsong accompanies their walk, much more welcome than the trumpets on their battle marches. A few compliments about Leonie's strength got her to heave the picnic basket over her shoulder. Bernadetta’s blush at the sight gave Hilda an early victory, and the skip in Annette's step is even more satisfying. 

"Some of these trees are so overgrown. I could chop some good wood while we're out here," Leonie says. Bernadetta turns redder. As fun as that is to watch, Hilda doesn't want Annette getting any ideas.

"We're here to relax," Hilda says.

Despite Leonie's argument about multitasking, she didn't bring an axe—as if the quiver on her back weren't enough. Bernadetta clutches Leonie's bow like a stuffed animal. Even Hilda wouldn’t leave the monastery without a knife in her boot, with Claude’s warnings ringing in her ears.

They arrive at a field neighboring the forest, where the grass has grown back from the soldiers that trampled it years before. Little white wildflowers accessorize it. As they settle into the shade of a tree, Annette reaches for the basket, eager to take Leonie's load. The scene maps out in Hilda's mind the second before it happens: Leonie's warning, Annette tripping over a root, and the basket flying in an arc onto the ground, flapping open on the way.

Annette dives to rescue it. Some of its wrapped contents are intact, but the tarts sit smashed between the tree roots.

"Oh, no, no! Mercie worked so hard on these."

_This sort of thing is why I wouldn't have bothered, _Hilda thinks, but she squeezes Annette's shoulder. "There, there. We still felt all of the love she put into their cute design."

Leonie drops to her knees beside Annette, poking at the broken crust and the compote spilling onto the ground. "I really hate wasting food, but I don't think there's any salvaging tarts in the dirt."

"I'm sorry. I should have packed more," Bernadetta says.

"If you had, and this didn't happen, that would have been a waste instead," Leonie says. "C’mon, we can still enjoy the sun." She unpacks the blanket, and Hilda makes the effort to set up flowers in the middle before Annette can fumble those, too.

Bernadetta stares at the tarts, tracing the shape of one of the more intact ones with a finger in the air. "They are cute, aren't they? I hope the animals like sweets."

"Don't the birds around here eat berries like that? I've seen them while hunting," Leonie says. Hilda's gaze slides between them, her lips curling up.

"Oh, do those grow around here? Wouldn't some fresh berries be lovely with Bernadetta's dumplings?" 

Annette perks up. "I could pick some for us!"

"But you're the one who mapped out the set up for our picnic. Besides, I think our resident archers know the forest best."

Bernadetta opens her mouth like she's going to protest, but instead she looks to Leonie, who boasts about her tracking skills. When she heads into the forest, Bernadetta scrambles after her. _One scheme successful_. Claude would be proud. As for the other plan...

Annette kneels on the blanket, unpacking the rest of the food with a crease in her brow. Her gaze keeps darting to the tarts before she steels it on her task, like she's afraid of dropping something else. Hilda doesn't try to help. An Annette with empty hands is like a squirrel digging in the wrong hiding spot for nuts.

"That doesn't look like a picnic face," Hilda says. She picks a flower and tucks it behind Annette's ear, admiring how it sets off her flame of hair.

"Sorry for being so gloomy. It's just, I'm supposed to come up with strategies for soldiers risking their lives, and I can't even plan a picnic without something going wrong."

"Something always goes wrong. What's important is being able to improvise. You can't call our picnic a failure before we've even eaten." She selects a dumpling, lifting it to Annette's lips. "Now, say ah."

Annette ducks back, her cheeks red. "I can feed myself, silly."

"Of course, you're more capable than I am. I guess you'll just have to feed me, too."

"How does that follow? Shouldn't we wait for the others to eat, anyway?"

"So polite," Hilda says, and pops the dumpling in her mouth.

* * *

Unlike the field, the forest shields them from the sun. Its earthy smell isn't so bad, but Bernadetta can't help noticing all the places enemies could hide: behind trunks, in the branches, in the shadowy bushes... She sticks close to Leonie, which isn't hard while they weave between trees and over roots, careful to avoid stumbling like Annette did.

Bernadetta points at the ground. "Look, pegasus tracks. And without horseshoes, too. There must be a wild one on the loose."

"Good eye. Maybe we'll spot it. That's good luck, you know."

"Nobody watches the ground better than Bernie," Bernadetta says, laughing weakly. "But, um, yeah, maybe!"

Though she feels blessed to be out in a remote location with Leonie, she needs the luck. Her pulse thrums with anticipation, as if she's on the precipice of some hope that's about to be dashed. A baby bird plummeting at first flight.

A rustling sound from above makes her heart jump. _An ambush. _"Look out," she cries, tackling Leonie out of the way. They hit the ground with a thud.

"Watch it!" After that protest, Leonie goes quiet, seeming alert. Bernadetta tries to listen through the blood pounding in her ears.

A bird shoots out of the canopy. Bernadetta waits, but no storm of arrows follows it.

"Just a bird," Bernadetta says with a squeaky laugh. She squeaks again when she realizes she's on top of Leonie, squeezing her torso for dear life. She scrambles to her feet. "Oh, no! Did I hurt you?"

Leonie stands, shaking her limbs out. "Nope. Good thing we hit the moss."

"Sorry. I thought we were under attack."

"We are at war, after all. But your first instinct was to protect me. That's pretty brave of you. Before, you might have run away."

"I'm happy to hear you say that, but I'm not that selfless. I just—if something happened to you..."

Leonie flexes an arm. "Don't worry. I'm strong, and I have you looking out for me."

Bernadetta risks meeting Leonie's eyes. Streams of sunlight catch her hair and cheekbones, dappling her face with its easy smile, and Bernadetta has never wanted to capture a sight in a painting more strongly.

"Yeah. Yeah, you're strong enough to fight just about anyone. And if they hurt you, they'll have to feel the Bern."

Leonie laughs. "It's settled, then."

"I'm serious!"

"So am I. I told you friends are always there for each other, remember?"

"Oh. Yeah, I remember." A sigh escapes Bernadetta.

"Is there a problem with that? Don't tell me you still don't think we're friends." Leonie's hand settles on her hip, her stance assured but her chin cocked. In her head, Bernadetta sketches the line of the pose.

"No, it's not that. You're always so nice to me. You invite me to things even when I don't go, and you get bullies to leave me alone. And even though all I can really do for you is sew, I..." A rush of emotion makes her lips wobble, words tumbling from them after being holed up for too long. "I want to be with you. As, um, more than a friend. I'm sorry, I didn't want to make you mad, I just—"

"Woah, Bernadetta. Bernadetta, I'm not mad."

"You're not?" A hundred breaths seem to escape Bernadetta as she clutches herself. _I can't believe I just said that. She's not mad. I can't believe I..._

"No, I'm actually really happy. I was beginning to think you'd never share your feelings with me.” Leonie scratches her neck. “I want to share mine, but this is all kind of sudden."

"It's okay. You, you don't have to say anything. I know you don't—"

"Hey, I didn't say that." Leonie reaches for Bernadetta's hand, brushing it with warm, calloused skin. Bernadetta flinches.

"Sorry," she whispers. Leonie retreats.

"Don't worry. We'll figure it out. For now, we'd better find those berries." The berries. Right. “And, Bernadetta? I like you a lot, too.”

Hope flutters in her chest like a bird learning it might soar.

She falls into step behind Leonie, letting her back guide her through the trees until the path becomes wide enough to fit them both.

* * *

The sun beats down until Annette loses her fight with it and removes her cape. Hilda examines its fur lining, chatting about Kingdom fashion, a topic Annette is more than happy to chime in on. Nevertheless, she suppresses a yawn. The warmth must be making her drowsy.

Hilda lays down the hood, fluffy side up, and pats it. "It oughta make a good pillow while we wait."

And here Annette thought she was hiding her fatigue. She hasn't even worked hard today; it's like going long enough without moving made her body decide it didn't want to anymore.

"I guess we have nothing else to do," she says. Hilda wouldn't let her bring a book. As she lies down, she feels shy, knowing someone's watching her try to relax. It doesn't help when Hilda lies next to her, scooting close to fit her head on the cape. Her hair spills over her shoulders and the fur, its edges gilded by the sun, and it's as pink as her lipstick.

"You know, I just realized we look like a sunrise," Annette babbles.

"I was thinking a sunset."

Annette could never see the beauty in a sunset. It always means another day over, its potential done. But maybe it would be nice to watch one with Hilda, and see how she looks with all of the colors washing over her.

As casually as ever, Hilda reaches to play with Annette's hair. A whiff of her perfume, sweet as honey, has Annette leaning in. She halts with her nose an inch away. "Can I...?"

Hilda winks. "Consider me the appetizer," she says, closing her eyes and puckering her lips. 

Not even the Empire sun could make Annette's face hotter. Here she had just been planning on jabbing her nose in Hilda's neck. Instead, she wraps an arm around Hilda's back and meets her mouth, trying not to smudge her lipstick again. The feeling, so soft and close, almost overwhelms her too much to be careful. Hilda's hand remains in her hair with languid strokes, as if to let her take this as slowly as she needs.

When Annette parts from her, it's to hold in the urge to sneeze. _All this stupid grass_. The sight of Hilda watching her with lidded eyes and a content smile shoves aside that thought.

"Thanks. I've wanted to do that again for a while," Annette says.

"I didn't think you were the type to hold anything back."

"I guess I was afraid of disappointing you."

Hilda kisses her again, just a peck, and somehow its brevity makes Annette's lungs squeeze. "You could never disappoint me," Hilda says. "Now, I know you hate to relax, so what do you say to putting that cute face to work?"

"What if the others show up?" Annette splutters.

"If I'm right, they'll be a while."

Annette isn't sure what that means, but she has other things on her mind, a sunset and sunrise wrapped in one.


End file.
